Revanchism book 1: The Ultimate Crusaders
by P. F. Elton
Summary: In 3,963 BBY the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders, led by their unstoppable leader Mandalore the Ultimate, have launched their assault on the Galactic Republic. Can the Republic survive the onslaught, and will the Jedi Order ever intervene?
1. Prologue

Star Wars

Revanchism book 1

The Ultimate Crusaders

Prologue

3,967 BBY

Taris, Lower City.

Taris was a planet not of the Galactic Republic, rather, a border planet; but their non-membership status never disqualified them or their dependencies from commerce. In was through trade that Taris came to adapt a strict societal structuring: the luxurious Upper City reserved for the very wealthiest, the casual Middle City for the working class of humans and small business owners, the wretched Lower City for most of the non-humans and starving riffraff, and the skyless Undercity where the descendants of banished prisoners dwelled, never to see daylight again.

Another transport ship had arrived on Taris, in the Lower City; and partially thanks to a rather lavish payoff from the Upper City, the non-human operated Lhosan Industries had agreed to organize the seperation of immigrants and provide the best protection possible – though their chief customers, the rival Swoop Bike Gangs known as the Hidden Beks and Black Vulkars were always eager to rain on a parade.

"_Quee grufkn ortugg sseefn_," the piglike Gamorrean growled, jabbing his activated vibro-ax at the vastly-smaller Black Vulkar member, a snotty little human probably no older than twenty. "Haha, stupid piggy," the teenager shot back, "Can't you speak Basic? Too dumb to understand what I'm saying are you?" "I'm not." responded another human, this one backing up the Gamorreans, a supervisor. "Carry your filthy self back to the hole you crawled from, Black Vulkar, before I decide to let my friends remove you themselves. Which is it?" The wretched little man continued with his basic taunts and jeering, but found the numbers game a bit too much; and mounting his tattered swoop bike he zipped away from the line.

The line was more identifiable with bantha herding than anything else. From the large durasteel transport ship, the refugees from Althir, broken-hearted as they were, were divided into two groups. Group A, the humans, were assisted with whatever little luggage they managed to get aboard the packed vessel and, protected from the terrors of the Lower City by the barricade of Lhosan employees, were shuffled onto the various lifts and elevators headed for the Middle City. Group B, the non-humans, were unceremoniously driven and prodded out of the Docking Bay and onto the streets, their fates at the hands of the Swoop gangs and Hutts that controlled society there.

Tera and Michael Gedaz were a newlywed couple, and fortunate enough to be humans. Michael, who had been orphaned on Althir as a young boy and without relatives, had held his beloved young wife as she wept nearly the entire trip to Taris, fearful of the brothers she was leaving behind who elected to defend the planet against the Mandalorians. "Come now," Michael reasoned, "Listen, they said in the Speeder lot just the other day, the Mandalorians only have a navy the size of a _tenth_ of ours. How could they possibly break through?" "Ohh, Michael, you d-don't know.." she sobbed, in their little compartment, "W-what they did on Cathar, did you never hear the stories? Oh Jarl, Resko, they're doomed to d-die, I just kn-know it, they're gonna die!"

"No, thanks, I have it." Michael said to the bothan who had halfway-politely offered to take their little aluminum locker, hoisting it over one shoulder; and wrapping one arm around his upset wife's waist, moved forward into the filth. _How could anyone live like this?_ he asked himself, staring at the refuse piled on heaps on the streetside, the ripe smell of excrement lingering in the air. Garbage of all kind was smashed underfoot as he and Tera headed for the nearest lift. The faces of the employees that herded them forward were full of contempt, something that made him hold onto Tera a little tighter than before; and a wave of relief passed over him when he saw professional human guards waiting at the lift. Slowly, they and about twenty others ascended, the grated flooring sagging ever-so-slightly from the weight, the shaft hardly illuminated by the occasional light planted into the walling.

When the gate opened and they departed the shaft, the found themselves in a dramatically nicer place. People, specifically _humans_, strolled about the streets much as folks did on Althir, dressed in a similar fashion too. "See, sweetheart," said Michael, leaning over to peck his relaxing wife on the cheek, "We're going to be just fine until this whole mess blows over."

They accepted the voucher for one night at a nearby hotel, moving through the general midday crowd across the paved streets. Here, the skyscrapers were the dominating feature, seemingly rising to the heavens themselves; and Tera found a small bit of laughter within as they marveled at one that alternated its color every ten seconds.

Stepping into the carpeted hotel, Michael drew near the desk; but he needn't speak, for the receptionist took little more than a glance before saying in a sharp tone, "More Althirians, eh? Come to find shelter here, of course, they all do when the Mandalorians attack; here, your card. Room 824." The little elevator moved much quicker than the lift had, and in seconds they were heading up a nicely-decorated hallway. It took little more than a swipe of the keycard for the door the slide up, and in they went.

The room was nice enough, but small as well. Tera brought herself to rest in a little cushioned metallic chair before the little viewscreen mounted on the wall. Finally able to place the locker somewhere other than his shoulders Michael stretched. "Sweetie," he said in his nicest tone, though it was little more than a tired drawl, "I think I'll catch a shower, so, if you lay down don't hog the bed." A sharp, yet playful look from his wife made him grin, and, stripping the workclothes that hadn't left his body in a standard day stepped into the shower.

The water was absolutely refreshing, and he found the strange scent of the soap to be pleasing. He took just a little longer than normal, soaking, before he was out and drying himself off. Wrapping the towel around his waist he stepped from the little bathroom back into the main room and began changing; but it was as he slipped on a cozy pair of pants that he noticed his wife's horrified face, staring at the viewscreen. There was their homeworld, Althir, to them one of the most beloved sights they would ever know; and there, in the near orbit of the planet, on the outer planetary rings, was the utter destruction of their fleet. Perhaps the most unenviable job in the galaxy belonged to the shaky-voiced man forced to cover the assault:

_...the ships, as I said, all destroyed from that last group...This is unthinkable, viewers, unreal...Those two massive Mando ships there, those are the capital ships. Their barrage of the cruisers didn't last long at all, even the battleships took-oh no, there, that explosion was an orbital turret. At this rate the Mandalorian's could be groundside in a matter of hours... Is there no end?_


	2. Chapter 1A

Chapter 1

3,966 BBY

The Mandalorians had celebrated their war rituals when Althir was taken; but there was nothing so unusual about it's conquest. It was nothing that the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders hadn't accomplished a dozen times before.

The name of Mandalore the Ultimate's capital ship roughly translated to _Unyielding Viper_ in Basic; and a more fitting name could not be found. One by one, they smashed planet's beyond Republic space; and when they did not utterly obliterate the populace as they had on Cathar, they conscripted those willing and enslaved the rest. The ship was orbiting the planet Mandalore itself, flanked by a dozen or so of the _Jehavey'ir_-type assault ships and encased by the patrols of countless _Davaab_-type starfighters.

Mandalore himself was resting upon his bone-carved throne, deep in the very bowels of his massive _Kandosii_-type dreadnaught. This class of ship, or so Mandalore believed, was the most powerful fashion in the known Galaxy; even if the Republic stood up to him, none of their vessel's could possibly compare in sheer power.

Before him was two of his most prized commander's, though they were only recently so. Rohlan Dyre had a knack for courage that was unseen even amongst the Mandalorians; and concidentially enough, he was _human_ and not of the real Mandalorian species, the Taung. Canderous Ordo was similarly human and the one responsible for the space victory over Althir the standard year before.

"Tell me, both of you," bellowed Mandalore, "My patience is wearing thin. What do the scouts report, the ones sent to review the planet Taris? Is the time ripe to capture this jewel of the Outer Rim? The road to the Republic starts there; will the glory soon be ours?"

"Yes, Mandalore." responded Rohlan, then turning his head went silent; the bloodlust was nothing he ever understood. "Great Mandalore," said Canderous, rising from the kneel he had assumed in the presence of his leader, "The Republic refused aid to the other worlds that we seized; but Taris is different. She is undoubtedly one of the most powerful planets outside of Republic and Hutt Space, at least economically. The trick to laying siege won't be taking the planet itself, but the resource world's that surround it."

"Yes, yes..." said Mandalore in his deep Mandalorian tongue, "Yes, I foresaw that being an objective. Still, the Republic cannot match our might and, therefore, will not meet us in battle..._none_ can match us...Not even the Jedi." "Lord Mandalore," said Rohlan, carefully, "I think Taris has seen enough of our power to know that resistance is futile. Perhaps they could see the reasoning behind negotiating an annexation as opposed to a full sca-" "_Silence..._" hissed Mandalore, "There is no negotiating, there is only glory to be had in conquest, and complete and utter annihilation of our foes. My Lieutenant, Cassus Fett, and I will discuss siege arrangements. The both of you are dismissed. Rohlan, reflect upon your..._reluctance_."

"Yes, Mandalore."

The planet Mandalore was no more industrialized than necessary; the more buildings, the less room for war games. The tribal nature left little room for a desire of commercialization or pacifistic immigrants. The surface was covered mostly in exotic, untamed rainforests, full of plumage of all color seperated only by vast seas and sudden spans of desert.

Evening had come, but the training of the soldiers never knew a dusk. Their military was seperated into three basic tiers; the grunts wore blue Neo-Crusader field armor. Past them was the Crimson-colored Rally Masters, reserved for members of leadership and distinction within a company. Above them were the Field Marshal's, encased in suits of gold and charged with leading brigades of soldiers. The heads of the Neo-Crusaders were Commander's who answered only to Mandalore the Ultimate himself.

Cassus Fett, Mandalore's favorite and the heir apparent, enjoyed exclusive control of his own military branch; the Shock Troopers. Outside of space-to-ground drop training, however, the couple thousand Shock Troopers didn't enjoy the use of their beloved Basilisk War Droids when drilling for combat. Cassus knew the importance of acclamation to warfare without them, as simply too many Mando recruits were growing dependent on their warmounts.

The Shock Troopers of Beta Company were scattered throughout a thick patch of jungle; and aside from the seeker drones that endlessly pursued them, there was also the countless serpents to consider. "RM7 to RM2, RM7 to RM2." said the Rally Master, communicating through his helmet to another some hundred yards away. The highly intelligent seeker drone had assumed a zigzag through the center of the forestry. These were no small drones; their size was much more comparable to a boulder than an egg, and their fire was lethal.

"Go ahead RM7." responded RM2. "RM2, we have clearance from Epsilon to engage." "You are clear to engage RM7; RM2 out."

At nothing more than a hand gesture the Crusaders under the charge of RM2 floored themselves, or took position behind thick trees, and for good reason. At a signal of his own the troops with RM7 silently rose from the jungle bed, moving methodically forward, their mandalorian assault rifles illustrating their seeking.

It was a grunt who first saw one of the camouflaged drones, and he immediately opened fire. Those near him took cover and opened themselves, a shower of blasts tearing into drone, canopy, and soldier; for the drones were more than capable of detecting fire and returning it. The rest of the dozen converged on their position and a violent, tree-felling skirmish broke out. The Crusaders shifted about, jockeying for position; they had all learned (through experience) that surrounding an enemy was the most proficient method of elimination. Most of the Crusaders were simply too agile, nearly leaping from tree-to-tree and firing all the way; and in some ten minutes the drones were wasted.

Cassus, riding his Basilisk in a slow circle around the jungle patch, heard their cries of victory.

They never failed him.


	3. Chapter 1B

The Senate building, the very core of the Republic, was simply huge; it managed to stand out even on a city-world like Coruscant where vast metallic skyscrapers competed for recognition. It's shape was similar to a rather stocky mushroom; broad, thick stem leading to the flared dome, much of the space devoted to the vast Senate chamber itself. Any given day, any form of delegate or representative could find themselves wined-and-dined by lobbyists behind closed doors, or on the Floor representing the bests interests of their constituency (or themselves).

The Jedi Master, and member of the Council selected to oversee the negotiation of Taris to the Galactic Republic was the young – and powerful- human woman known as Lonna Vash. The little golden speeder that shuttled her to the Senate building docked in the bay there, and out she stepped, her hair collected in a neat bun.

She was one of the youngest ever selected to the Jedi Council; but she was void of the arrogance that plagued so many of her peers. Through the large durasteel gates she entered the center lobby, her hands collected in her brownish robes. "Master Vash?" inquired a Republic Soldier, he and another crossing the extravagantly-decorated hall to her, his yellow-and-orange armor plating shining from a fresh polishing. "I am, soldier." she responded. "I hope I'm not late?"

"Not at all, Master Jedi. After us."

They entered a side room, where a guarded elevator was present; and up they went, much higher into the building. The two soldiers were in awe of Lonna; apparently she didn't fit the stereotype of decrepit old wizened Jedi Masters. It was through another network of hallways and corridors that she and the guards arrived in the meeting room.

The size of the room was not what you would expect; in fact, the little conference hall looked more makeshift than permanent. Nonetheless, at the far end was a man that Lonna Vash had spent the night learning of he and his company; he was a Skrilling by the name of Jervo Thalien, chairman of Lhosan Industries.

"Welcome, welcome, Master Vash." said the elongated Quermian, Minister of Defense Koa Delko. "Please have a seat and allow me to introduce Mr. Jervo Thalien, chairman of Lhosan Industries, Admiral Noma Sommos, General Derred, and Senator Tin Empo of Arkania. As Minister of Defense I feel the need to remind you of the dire position the Republic may find itself in if the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders surround us from the outside. I hope that Taris is in the fore of your thoughts and intentions here. Senator Empo, I believe you have a statement prepared."

"So I do.." mumbled the cold old Arkanian, his blank orbs cut seemingly in rejection of the situation he found himself in. "I needn't elaborate on the situation that neighboring Taris finds itself in," he drawled unconcernedly, "It would be just _dreadful_ if our economic partner was conquered by the Mandalorians. I have agreed to, on the behalf of the people of Taris, sponsor the annexation of the planet should this assembly decide that course of action best."

"It must be best." said the young, shaven-head General Derred. "Outside of Republic space, Taris is a giant. They have to be defended, by the Republic if necessary. Surely, the Mandalorian horror tales are just that; horror tales. I do not believe, nor do I have cause to believe, that their military might would compare to the Republic's if mobilized. Surely, Admiral Sommos will support my insistence?" "Regrettably not, General." said Admiral Sommos, an elderly Sullustan woman with neat grey locks of hair flowing from beneath her Officer's hat. "I have to say, full mobilization is what it would take to defend Taris. That would be Republic lives wasted on a planet that previously boasted its autonomy. Whats more, the Neo-Crusaders could attack at any given moment; full mobilization of the Navy can take months."

"I think..." said Jervo, "That the financial assets that my compan is willing to make should more than compensate for the trouble. Be mindful and caring of the people of Taris, Admiral." "As I said..." she returned sharply, "Your planet has had no desire to join this Republic until now, but with the Mando's at your doorstep you eagerly come and ask for help." Jervo fumed, his fist coming down on the table, "My planet is controlled by _humans_, Admiral, and they could not care if we _all_ died in the Lower City!"

"That will be enough." said Koa, and Lonna rose from the table, extending her hands as if to offer an embrace; but even as she finally spoke the Force flowed through her and into the room, a subtle but effective method of keeping tempers from flaring. "Admiral Sommos, the Jedi Council is presently opposed, resoundingly, to a military conflict; and let me make it clear to all of you, that should the Republic go to war it would be without our aid." Derred made a somewhat surprised face at this, as if hoping that the Jedi would support his cause. "However," she continued, "The Council is aware of the suppressive societal structure of Taris and fully supports the annexation and protection of the planet. Remember that we have a presence there and let that be a clear sign of our invested interests in the well-being of the planet and it's people...human or otherwise."

Lonna returned to her seat, and for a moment there was a thoughtful pause. Finally, Derred spoke, "Perhaps it would be more realistic to assemble an auxiliary force, to ease the pressure and, hopefully, stem a measure of full mobilization?" "An excellent idea." said Koa, slowly nodding his egg-shaped head. "Admiral Sommos, do you find that course of action plausible?"

"It is plausible, but unrealistic." she responded. "An auxiliary force could not hold against the mighty Mandalorians, not a chance." "But Admiral," said Derred, turning fully to her, "Could it not buy the Republic Navy the time needed to prepare for a potential assault? Could it not make do until our forces are mobilized enough to more professionally hold them?" "Possibly." was her response, but she waved her hand in general discouragement, "But understand, my opposition to military involvement stands. I absolutely feel, after thirty-eight years including participation in the Great Sith War, that another major conflict would be devastating and altering to the Republic. Should we not heed the council of the Jedi now, as we always have?" "I will reiterate that we are resolutely in favor of the admittance of Taris into the Galactic Republic." said Master Vash, "However, as we are also resolutely opposed to a military conflict we will neither sanction, nor assist, any form of militia corps, auxiliary force, or what have you."

"Mr. Thalien," said Minister Delko, "I believe that you have already come to a currency exchange with Minister of the Treasury. What amount of money would your company be donating to the Galactic Republic?" The chairman cleared his throat, which oddly seemed to echo the sound through the tubes implanted on his face. "The sum would amount to five hundred billion credits." "That's all?" said Senator Empo, stirred from his bored indifference, "We are supposed to risk war for half a trillion credits? That is absurd. That money is not worth Republic lives." "I think that if it is all that can be offered, Senator, then it should be accepted." said Lonna, offering another subtle wave of her hand to best allow her to channel the Force, "Also, I think it fair that the credits be dedicated to raising such an auxiliary corps. Is that not fair, Admiral?"

Noma removed her cap, touching on the spot of her head that was bald, and when she spoke it was with a resigned tone. "I do suppose, that, if that is the course of action selected, then yes, those credits would be sufficient for at least a token force." "Excellent. " said the Defense Minister, "Senator, do you not find these terms acceptable?" "So I suppose." grunted Senator Empo, crossing his arms. "I am certain that the Army will find an enthusiastic commander of an auxiliary force." said a pleased General Derred.


	4. Chapter 2A

Chapter 2

3,965 BBY

The year would be the last peaceful one for a long while, the calm before the storm.

Taris experienced growing pains in joining the Galactic Republic; it's trade was regulated, it's violent sports and past-times overseen by commission's (when not outright banned), and to the dismay of the aristocracy of the Upper City, the Middle City had begun to (in very small quantities) accept the wealthier members of the Lower City. Still, despite the sudden culture-shock, every agreed that they had made the right decision for their very lives, and Jervo Thalien was commended – including by members of the Upper City – for his efforts and sacrifice.

The Auxiliary Corps had been drawn not only from Taris, but from various other colonies beyond the Core Worlds and was more composed of Fringer's than anything, all eager for glory and credit's. Admiral Jimas Veltraa was the commander of the irregular's, of whose quality he boasted about at every turn. The sizable piece of the Republic Navy sent to help defend the border was under the command of Captain Saul Karath, an upstanding officer with shrewd decision-making skills.

The Republic Navy, regular and irregular, formed a border along the orbits of the resource worlds of Taris known as the Jebble-Vanquo-Tarnith line, or JVT for short. Admiral Sommos recognized immediately that the forces were simply spread too thin and that the range was practically indefensible; but Admiral Veltraa had argued that the irregular's were being underestimated, and Captain Karath reasoned that, as a string, pressing one segment in would allow an opportunity to swallow and crush the Mandalorians.

The Jedi Order, however, still refused to be involved. Too many of the old Master's of the Order remembered the Great Sith War, known better to them as the Exar Kun War, and feared war as a sure path to the Dark Side. Still, there was one particularly outspoken Jedi Knight who protested to all who would hear of the woes of indecisiveness. He believed that the Jedi Order owed the Republic it's very existence and had the duty of defending it at all costs. Through the media, he became known simply as The Revanchist.

Meanwhile, the Mandalorian Neo-Crusaders had taught themselves patience. Intelligence was not what it could have been; their strategy had always been reliant on direct assaults with planning a secondary commodity. Mandalore the Ultimate was a warmonger, but not a fool; he thought it wise to test this line where convenient, be it a stray scouting party or a brief little bombardment. It was war, indeed; but if he could lure the Republic into underestimating them, the real offensive would be that much greater of a victory.

The Neo-Crusaders had conscripted and conscripted and conscripted; and by the start of 3,964 BBY, there were more non-Taungs in the ranks than genuine Mando's. Still, if they could fight as well as the native species of the warrior culture, they would be viewed as equal warriors and admitted into clans all the same.

Soon enough, the testing of the JVT had run it's course; Mandalore and Cassus Fett believed it time to test the Republic Army against their own Shock Troopers. Several little proxy conflicts and border disputes broke out as tensions rose.

There was a particular opportunity to test the Republic Army against the Mandalorians on the research station called Flashpoint. It was inconspicuous enough to not draw any more notice than any of the other raids; but it was also highly desired by the Mandalorian scientist Demagol, who enjoyed preying on Force-sensitives including Jedi.


	5. Chapter 2B

3,964 BBY

Flashpoint Station was unbearably close to its sun, leaving the dwarf-planet little more than a burnt rock in space. In fact, it's proximity was so near the star that a day on Flashpoint occurred in the span of one standard hour.

Doctor Hukan, an Ithorian, was the Head Scientist and held charge of the Space Station, including authority over the 22nd Platoon stationed there. Doctor Hukan had not approved; he thought of his little research station to be completely irrelevant to the inevitable war and in no threat, direct or indirect. The main course of research done was gauging the levels of radiation poisoning, and studying any methods of bio-engineering to assist in resisting the effects of Ultraviolet rays.

There were two ways to access the station: the primary method was through a dock that led to a rather lofty underground corridor that led to the station itself, which was built into the side of the planet and protected by a magnetic field. The secondary method, and the emergency one, was to deactivate the field and take the lone shuttle away from Flashpoint. One shuttle was all that would ever be needed; the facility had a staff no greater than fifty.

"Slowly now, slowly..." Cassus Fett said to the pilot of the Neo-Crusader Q-Carrier transport. His had taken the lead over the other three Q-Carriers, Delta Company being the group of Shock Troopers specifically selected for the battle.

It had been no simple task, maneuvering around the planet-side as they had and evading a Republic patrol. Cassus kept them as close to the barren ground as one would dare, and it paid off; the four transports hovered over the magnetic field protecting the nearly-empty dock. The Republic Soldier on duty had fallen asleep, resting against the bare rock near the giant durasteel docking doors. Some sixty feet away were two _Ministry_-class orbital shuttles, both bearing the seal of the Republic and striped with the same burnt orange used on the background of their emblem.

From each of the four transports came a Shock Trooper protected by their specialized armor, crawling their ways down to the bottom of the vessel where a Basilisk War Droid was attached; and at the side of their owner's their crustacean-like tails began to twitch. The Basilisk's released themselves from the transport, swimming their way through the vacuum of space to each of the four corners of the magnetic field. The Shock Troopers dismounted, holding on to their mounts as they each planted a small bomb at the spindly magnetic projectors; and when they had moved far enough away, it was Cassus himself who detonated them.

The Republic Soldier never knew of his fate, suffocating and freezing solid at once. Three of the Basilisk-mounted Mando's went to the shuttles, and through the brute strength of the basilisk's detached them and released them into space. The other warrior had gone to the giant corridor gates, hacking the computer while the Shock Troopers departed their transports, two by two, until all two hundred Shock Troopers and their Commander were waiting.

The hacking finally succeeded, the doors sliding back as the air was sucked in a swift vacuum from the room. Once inside, the hacker activated the door controls again; when sealed, oxygen and gravity were both restored.

"I've never understood hacking." said a Rally Master near Cassus, watching the hacker fight with the next gate. Soon enough, it too was released; and though the Shock Troopers had their assault rifles at the ready they found the next lock empty. Only one more to go until they would be in the base.

"What is the problem?" bellowed Doctor Hukan in his strange language, more so composed through the pitches of air escaping his lungs than actual word-formation. "I do apologize for awakening you, Doctor, but we have a situation." said the Republic Soldier. "Please, follow me."

Doctor Hukan was led up a ramp, heading to the center control station; not a large room, but one covered with panels that ran equipment diagnostics for the whole station. He could tell by the expressions of his operators that something was terribly amiss. "Over here, Doctor." said Lieutenant Golbrit, gesturing to a holoprojection of the base – another addition that the Doctor had never found a use for.

"As you can see, Doctor, we have a breach in our Docking bay. There is no damage to the gates or the locks, but they are currently experiencing some kind of manual override." said Golbrit. "They are being hacked, sir, and with your permission we can lock down the third gate." The Doctor was completely confused. "Who could be hacking those gates? There is no way to break into them from the control station here. Did your soldiers detect any Mandalorians?"

"No sir, if Mandalorian's were likely behind this, I think the Navy patrols would have engaged them and notified us. Still, we have to-"

_BOOM!_

"What in the name of Exar Kun was _that_?"

_BOOM BOOM BOOM! BOOOOOOM!_

The Shock Troopers had more trouble with that heavily-encrypted third lock than the others. Cassus knew that their mission must have been discovered by then. The remaining charges had been placed around the base of the gate, especially at the seal of the two doors. While the explosion hadn't been enough to breach the gates itself, the Basilisk's managed to pound a whole through themselves.

The Basilisk's went first, opening fire on the two shuttles docked there, their laser cannons ripping through the hulls of the ships, in minutes reducing them to little more than scrap metal. The Shock Troopers charged across the grounds, heading for the Command Center itself.

The two, three Republic Soldiers patrolling the ground were completely taken off-guard; they only managed to get off a few shots before the met their ends. An alarm sounded through the station and they found the doors to the Commander Center sealed – another thing that the Basilisk's tore a hole through.

"Take cover, men!" Lt. Golbrit yelled over the warcry of the Shock Troopers that came pouring through. The first two or three Shock Troopers went down under a barrage of blasts from the Republic Soldiers, but after Cassus Fett himself blew half the face off of Golbrit, the troops soon followed in kind. Only one prisoner was taken from the skirmish in that hallway, and the Iridonian has little more than bone left for a right arm.

"You two, get to the basilisk's, get me charges." said Cassus, then turned to address the thirty or so of Delta Company that had squeezed into the hallway with him. "Mandalorians, of all species, united under one creed: Victory! Battle awaits us on the other side of this door, and the glory will be ours when we take this Station – even if it is for that sniveling fool Demagol. For Mandalore!"

"**For Mandalore!"**

The five, six soldiers that had taken cover behind the equipment in the Command Center were just as terrified as the dozen or so personnel they had armed with their Republic Blaster Pistol's. Doctor Hukan was back down the ramp in the Communications Array, radioing for help that couldn't possibly arrive in time.

"This is Captain Karath," said Saul, transmitting from the Bridge of his _Inexpugnable_-class command ship, his red uniform as impeccable as always. "Help, Captain!" said the Doctor, his air waves quaking with fear, "The Mandalorians are here! They are attacking us, oh help, please, help!"

"Mandalorians? On Flashpoint?" said the Captain, taken completely off-guard. "Listen, listen, Doctor, evacuate Flashpoint. I repeat, calm yourself and evacuate Flashpoint!" "There isn't the time!" said Doctor Hukan, "They'll be in here any moment, please, help..." he whined, then cutting the feed went to try to barricade the door. He could hear screams between the endless blaster shots from the Command Center.

Cassus was disappointed; the little shootout in the Command Center hadn't been what he was expecting. His gold armor didn't have the first drop of blood on it. "Sir, we have captured seven personnel from the facility and two soldiers," said a Mando, "What should we do with them?" "Find seperate places to secure them." said Cassus, waving off the soldier with his hand. The room was not as destroyed as he would have liked – the more he tore the place up, the longer it would take his rival, Demagol, to repair it. Weird fool, that one, no appreciation for their culture or the glory of battle.

He had only begun to finish issuing security orders when some shivering Ithorian was dropped at his feet. "Mercy, m-mercy..." begged the Doctor, sprawled on the floor before Cassus. "Are you the one in charge here?" he asked. "Yes L-lord...Please spare me, please have mercy..." said Doctor Hukan. With a little sigh, Cassus aimed his custom Heavy Blaster Pistol down at the groveling Ithorian. "This, my Doctor, is the most merciful thing I can do for you."

_Bam bam bam!_


	6. Chapter 2C

"Don't think on it." said Admiral Sommos. Like Captain Karath, she had chosen to take the transmission in her private quarters.

"Admiral," said Captain Karath, removing his Officer's hat and sending a hand across his crew-cut blonde hair, "I am not so concerned about losing little Flashpoint; I'm much more concerned with the JVT line itself. I now understand what you had been trying to teach me, and I apologize for not heeding your wisdom. The JVT line is indefensible."

"Oh, I know." said Admiral Sommos, "And I knew that, sooner or later, you would see that for yourself. However, Jimas is a good leader, maybe the auxiliary forces will hold as he expects them to. For the sake of Taris, I hope he is right."

"So do I, Admiral." responded the Captain. "I don't know...it's just...I would feel much more comfortable out here if there were a few _Jedi _around. Have you heard about that one they call The Revanchist? The news says that he and his best friend, Alek, have become more vocal about interceding every day. Why do the Jedi refuse to help?"

"They claim to be uncertain of the real purpose of the Mandalorians." said the Admiral, accompanied with a roll of her large eyes. "I don't know what they're waiting for, but if this Revanchist has his way, they'll help us soon enough. But Saul, listen to me: we are the Galactic Republic. We have beaten these Mandalorian's once before and we'll do it again. Do not let this little skirmishes unsettle you. In due time I will come and help you and Admiral Veltraa hold the line. Believe me, Captain, we will not allow our people to suffer the same fate that the Outer-Rim endured." She offered him a rare, warm smile. Captain Karath listened intently and smiled back at her.

"I'm sure you're right, Admiral. Have a fair evening."


	7. Chapter 3A

Chapter 3

3,964 BBY-_4 months later_

It seemed that the conflict had reached a complete stalemate.

There had been no Republic retaliation for the capturing of Flashpoint Station; it was determined that the effort required to counter-attack was highly disproportionate to the value of the location itself. Since then, there had not been a single shot fired across the JVT line. Rumors that some sort of peace had been negotiated were spreading like wildfire, and even Captain Karath began to question the longevity of the conflict. Had they over-reacted in the first place, over-estimated the Mandalorians? Were they fearing a non-existent monster?

Four months following the Battle of Flashpoint Station, however, the silence would be broken over the planet Suurja, which was located right on the JVT line and under Captain Saul Karath's order.

"Captain Karath," said the operator, calling over his left shoulder from his aisle on the bridge, "Something..._some things_ are approaching on the radar."

Saul jerked his face from the routine deck of paperwork he was forced to sign off on at the start of every standard day and practically tossed the documents to the Ensign he received them from, hurrying over to the little aisle where the operator was reporting from. Sure as anything, some twenty little blips had appeared on the radar. It could mean only one thing:

Mandalorians.

"Set the entire ship on alert," ordered the Captain, going into command-mode. "I want every subordinate Captain and Pilot linked to the wishing well. Look alive, Fleet." he added through his personal comlink; and as expected, the voice of his protege Carth Onasi called back to him from the cockpit of his strikefighter, "Look alive at what? Everything seems to be pretty clear out here."

Carth was making passes with the rest of his squadron around the stem of the _Inexpugnable_-class tactical command ship commissioned to his mentor as the _Courageous_. Carth thoroughly enjoyed the _Aurek_-class tactical strikefighter, or A-Wing that was the standard-issue starfighter of the Republic. The A-Wings were well-armed, easy to refuel, and most importantly to Carth had excellent maneuverability.

Even if Saul hadn't responded, it would've only taken a few more seconds for Carth to find out himself. One of the _Kandosii_-type dreadnaughts was accelerating in their direction, but the _Davaab_-type starfighters got there first. Suddenly, Carth was in a dogfight.

In the combat zone, Carth ran off of pure adrenaline. Smoothly issuing orders to the rest of his squadron they made a neat little pass over a couple of incoming squadrons, and turning about shot off behind them. Some thought that dogfights were slow, predictable, and procedural engagement; but Carth Onasi would have you know nothing could be farther than the truth.

He opened up with his laser cannons, blowing one of the Mando fighter's to dust. Banking hard around the stem he evaded fire from two more; a barrel roll later and they were both in his sights, momentarily, before he ended the lives of their pilot's as well. The single-cannoned _Davaab_-type that the Neo-Crusaders manufactured was simply no match.

"I hate to say this, Saul, but I'm having a blast down here...no pun intended of course!"

"Glad to hear it, Carth, just don't get killed." Captain Karath responded, a grin helplessly splitting his face. He went to the glass to admire the hundreds of blasts and explosions that split the blankness of space. Saul had no idea as to what the Mandalorian's were attempting here; this segment of the JVT line was one of the strongest. The _Courageous_ itself was practically a mobile battle station. The _Kandosii_-type dreadnaught there had yet to open fire; rather a swarm of _Teroch_-type gunships and a few _Jehavey'ir_-type assault ships were opening up.

The Mandalorian's were smart enough to avoid the _Courageous_ as best as possible, but the turbolaser batteries that were positioned along the bottom of the saucer-shaped command ship had opened up from a beginning, snagging a _Davaab_-type here and a _Teroch_-type there. Every few minutes a new squadron of A-wing's sped from the hanger, out from beneath the ship to the battle. The Republic's hammer-headed _Praetorian_-class frigates flanked the _Courageous_ to hold the line, and a dozen of the _Foray_-class blockade runners were engaging the _Kandosii_-type dreadnaught itself.

Naturally, Captain Karath had hardly shut up the entire time, issuing commands through the wishing well. The "wishing well" was the given name for the pool of holoprojection across a transparent deck, an innovative new method of communication.

"Looks like we're thinning 'em out pilots, great job!" said Captain Karath, "All _Praetorian_-class frigates, engage the dreadnaught, I repeat, engage the dreadnaught."

Just as Saul turned to repeat the order to the operators on the bridge, the Mandalorian _Kandosii_-type slowly but surely turned there, the swarms of Mandalorian fighters gathering to it. It was only minutes later that the remainders of the repelled attack force sped away, back to Mandalorian space.

Another grin grew on Captain Karath's face.

"Pilots, the enemy has retreated, I repeat, the Mando's have retreated. We won!"

A rousing cheer broke out across the bridge and Saul found himself high-fiving more than one operator, the victory shouts of the numerous pilots blaring out from the wishing well.

Carth allowed himself a little victory lap around the _Courageous_ herself before shooting up into the hangar. In a half hour he was rushing up the bridge to the Captain, giving Saul a slap on the shoulder.

"Liked seeing a real pilot in action, Captain?" he boasted. Saul gave a little laugh himself, "I think my mother could gun down those _Davaab's_, but I suppose you did okay for a little A-Wing pilot."

Carth was on fire. Pausing for just a moment to chat with one of the excited young operator's he sped back out of the bridge, probably going to have a drink. After engagement's, drink's were always on the house.

Saul couldn't hope for a better friend.


	8. Chapter 3B

_1 month later_

The Revanchist's simply could not help themselves.

Following the First Battle of Suurja The Revanchist (now mostly going by just Revan) and Alek had decided to take a tour of the JVT line. They claimed to simply be scouting the front; they were really hoping to be in the right place at the right time to defend their Republic. When word that the Mandalorian's tried to gain a foothold on Suurja herself during the second engagement there some three weeks after the first, the Revanchists split up; Most went with Alek to Suurja to "observe the skirmishing" while Revan and a few Jedi Knights went to Onderon.

It was the Third Battle of Suurja. Alek and the Revanchists had decided to "observe" the battle at the greatest point of interest on the surface, where the Mandalorian's were beaten back several times; the communal silo's that rose high into the sky, containing more than enough food to feed the whole planet for at least a week. Alek pondered what a life of farming most be as his eyes stretched over the amber waves of the surrounding fields.

The Jedi had been (gladly) given the materials and had built a rather rudimentary little camp of their own in the long network of silo's and warehouses by the locals; they decided against trying to camp with the Soldier's stationed there. The fields and small patches of woods on the outskirts of the location had been more than ideal for meditation and reflection; and each passing hour their resolve strengthened. They would uphold their duty to the Republic and protect it at all costs.

Scattered about the silo's, positioned at random the Revanchist's waited, anxiously. There numbers did not exceed twenty, but their resolve was hardened. Soon enough, their patience was satisfied – with four rocking blasts from orbit that shattered the center warehouse and all the Republic soldiers and supplies within it. Debris and shrapnel shot out in every direction from the massive billowing smoke cloud. Alek had to focus and utilize the Force to stop the deadly fragments from hitting him.

It was only minutes later that the invasion party came. Turning to the little metallic table that he had been sitting at, he extended his hand and drew his lightsaber. He ignited the blue-colored tool, hurrying with due caution through the dust cloud. From above he could hear something big approaching, but in the thick fog he could only distinguish a shadow. He converged with two other Knights, both of whom were covered in soot, and together they headed toward the ruins of the center warehouse where the massive object was landing.

The object was a Mandalorian _Shaadlar_-type troopship; and it wasn't landed on the rubble for more than ten seconds before the Neo-Crusaders came pouring out. First came the Shock Troopers by a couple hundred who secured the ruins, opening fire on the few surviving Republic soldiers in the general area; after them came hundreds and hundreds of standard Neo-Crusaders. Alek and the other two parried a volley of blasts back at them before ducking behind a large chunk of concrete.

"This is Alek to the _Courageous_, I repeat, Alek to the _Courageous_! I need the Captain!" he screamed through his comlink. Shots were peppering the fire side of the block.

"I'm sorry," came the response, "But Captain Karath is indisposed up here. This is much worse than last time. What seems to b-" "The Mando's have dropped a transport...we're under attack!" shouted Alek. Scanning around him, only a few platoons of Republic soldiers managed to converge on the disaster zone. Crimson blasts zipped all around them, going to and from their enemy. Shouting was in the air, mixing with the thick cloud of confusion. Nearby, a soldier had his leg separated from a shot at the knee. Blood poured from the partially cauterized wound. "We have to move!" said Alek to the other two. He could see it in their eyes; they were terrified. He was terrified too.

Grabbing them both by their cloaks, he leapt up and sped to the nearby warehouse off the his right. In doing so, he accidentally made the Nautolan to his left a human shield. The Jedi was riddled with blasts and fell in an undignified heap.

Alek called desperately through the Force, to all those who could feel it's powerful waves of influence in the area. He intended to draw the other Knight's to him, but only got a response from one other. Together they took off to the far corner of the warehouse – and walked right into some hundred of Mandalorian's, a field of blue speckled by red. The standard Neo-Crusaders may not have been specialized like the few Company's of Shock Troopers, but they outnumbered their special forces counterparts by a hundred-to-one and were no less fierce.

The Jedi froze; fortunately for them, the Mandalorian's were as taken off guard as he was. By the time the two parties regained their senses, Alek and the Jedi immediately cast down their lightsabers in surrender while the Mandalorian's spread out from their drop site.

The Republic clearly lost this round.


	9. Chapter 3C

_2 weeks later_

The time for planning was over.

A fourth battle followed the third for Suurja; and both the Neo-Crusaders as well as the Republic accepted it as a draw. While the Mandalorian's had ultimately failed at maintaining a foothold on the planet, the Republic Navy under Saul Karath was too battered to hold the orbit and retreated to Tarnith Station. As far as Saul was concerned, they had lost; and the blow to his pride was nearly unbearable.

The night sky on Mandalore was dotted less and less by natural stars and more and more by the infinite engines and propellant of the warships. Ever hour, thousands of Mandalorian's boarded transports and launched into orbit. The fervor among the company's of troops could not be greater; they were finally poised to claim the glory.

A military parade had seen Mandalore the Ultimate and his Commander's to the _Unyielding Viper_. "Glorious, isn't it?" said Canderous Ordo to the helmeted Cassus Fett, who replied with only a nod. The fool Rohlan Dyre had renounced his position to "find the real cause of the war" or some other similar ridiculousness. The other Commander's were fine with him; it would only leave each of them with more power when their sacred conquest was completed.

They escorted Mandalore the Ultimate to his throne room, situated immediately over the bridge. "I understand that Demagol is captured and Flashpoint Station is destroyed?" he called over his shoulder. "Yes, Lord Mandalore." said Cassus with just a touch of glee in his voice. It absolutely thrilled him to see the failure and removal of his rival. Mandalore came to rest on his throne, beholding them through his mask. He laughed.

"As if Flashpoint Station makes any difference in this whole war." he cackled, "Demagol was a trusted Commander and will be missed; however, I think the three of us will be sufficient in crushing the Republic, don't you?" "Of course, Great Mandalore!" said Canderous Ordo, "The time for our attack has come."

"So it has, Canderous. Our forward base on Dxun is still safe, is it not?" "I can confirm that, Great Mandalore." said Cassus Fett, balling a fist before him. "My Shock Troopers are the ones holding it."

"Yes, yes, your Shock Troopers. I think we use them too frequently. We only have six companies of them; they aren't a tenth of our force. You will not engage with them again unless explicitly instructed to, is that understood?"

"Yes, Lord Mandalore." said Cassus, his voice now traced with a hint of disappointment.

Mandalore rose, stepping around the far side of his throne to look out the viewing glass to his massive fleet. He was certain that nothing in history could compare to the countless war ships that hovered in orbit or the swarms upon swarms of starfighter's that zipped past. "Our people have been humiliated by this Republic once before..." he growled, "It will not happen again. Our destiny is _victory_, a complete conquest and domination of the pompous Republic. Soon, they will all answer to us. We are unstoppable. I only dream of the glory we will have when our banners are raised high over the ruins of their Senate Building on Coruscant. I will drink from the very skull of their General's and Admiral's. Are you ready?"

"_**Yes Mandalore!**_"


	10. Chapter 4A

Chapter 4

3,963 BBY

The False War was over. The real one was just beginning.

Mandalore the Ultimate chose Onderon as the first target of the Mandalorian Offensive for several reasons. Firstly, because of it's proximity to it's jungle moon Dxun where their secret forward base was. The two celestial bodies were so close they even shared part of their atmosphere, making an attack by Basilisk's easier. Secondly, Onderon was within Republic space and would serve as an excellent launch to an invasion of the Republic core worlds. Thirdly, they had a score to settle with these wretched people.

Cassus Fett was on Dxun, cutting through the thick jungle with some hundred of the Alpha Company Shock Troopers in tow. It had begun to drizzle, just enough to make watching your step a valid point 'lest you sink into a mudhole. The brush was thick and rife with predatory beasts, which had to be dispatched of and on more than one occasion they could hear a roar echoing through the jungle, a feral call of something much too big for them to handle.

They were heading for the Republic outpost stationed there on the planet; with its orbital sensors deactivated, the people of Onderon would never see the attack coming. "Down to a crouch, boys." said Cassus Fett, and so they crept out of the humid jungle to the clearing. The Outpost was nothing more than the tall satellite that was the Orbital Sensor and a small barracks. Discretion was not the better part of valor that day; the Republic soldiers saw them coming from some three hundred yards off and, hollering for backup, opened fire on the Neo-Crusaders.

Shots zipped all around Cassus. He had hoped to avoid this kind of confrontation by using Basilisk's, but Mandalore insisted they be held for the attack on Onderon herself. Several Shock Troopers went down as they charged across the clearing; but soon enough, they were there. A few frag grenades hurled into the barracks stemmed the tide of soldiers long enough for the Shock Troopers to take cover; and the Republic soldiers were mowed down as they tried to come out.

Cassus himself and a few others set about planting detonators around the Orbital Sensor; they had no use for it themselves, as their hidden base had one of its own. In another swift, decisive defeat of the Galactic Republic the barracks were gutted, the survivors rounded up as prisoners, and the Orbital Sensor was destroyed. Not much of a battle at all. Mission accomplished.

"Great Mandalore," said the Neo-Crusader, "I just received a transmission from Commander Fett, the invasion is ready to commence."

"Begin the attack, Mandalorian, and ready my shuttle." was the response. Mandalore rose from his throne and went straight for his heavy blaster; there was no way that he would allow himself to miss the grand opening of his own galactic conquest.

Iziz was completely unsuspecting of it's swiftly-approaching doom. It was evening time, and to most people it simply seemed that a stormcloud was approaching from Dxun – which would have been a meteorological fluke in itself. The people there had managed to maintain a pretty strong policy of isolationism; in exchange, their defense system were hundreds of years behind.

Then again, they could have had the most technologically advanced equipment of the day; there was no saving them now.

The Republic took notice of the loss of contact with the Orbital Sensor; however, only a scouting ship nearby could attempt to retaliate. In fortifying the JVT line, much of the remainder of the border had been left unsecured and vulnerable to the Mandalorian's. The _Praetorian_-class frigate dipped into the shared span of atmosphere between Dxun and Onderon, rocketing toward the jungle moon – and headlong into the thousands of Basilisk War Droid's. Hundreds of Mandalorian's crashed against the frigate, those who didn't perish on impact falling to their dooms. The impact rocked the ship as well, the combined weight of the Basilisk's being comparable to it's own; and the pilot's lost control, sending it plummeting to an explosive crash on the moon.

"Good people of Iziz," began the commander-in-chief of Onderon, General Vaklu, over the public comsystem, "It is urgent that you heed the sirens and return to your homes. Arm yourselves, the Mandalorian's are here." Short and sweet was all that he had time for here. The city beneath his point in the palace was in a complete panic and scramble; but as far as Vaklu was concerned, at least they could see it coming instead of dying without warning.

The batteries were manned, civilians conscripted, gates barricaded and the palace locked down; but it was nowhere near enough. Even from miles and miles away, the feral rumbling that was the engines propelling the War Droids could be heard, the screams of thousand's of Mandalorians lost in their fervor reaching the pristine city. Death was near for so many who thought themselves safe in the presence of their Queen.

The Basilisk's came crashing down all over the city in a shower of destruction, some breaking through the shops and homes they landed upon with their cannons firing. The Onderonian military was well-disciplined, however, and the turret's brought down several Basilisk's in the air, the Onderonian soldiers valiantly returning the Mandalorian's blasts in kind. The first wave of Basilisk's did not fare as well as planned; and if the first batch had been the _only_ batch Iziz might have been saved thanks to the strategic positioning of the soldiers that had taken to every window and balcony to position light artillery. The first wave was no where near the last, however. More and more Mandalorian's came pouring from space, covering the city as ants cover an anthill. The turret's could not keep up with the mass invasion, and there simply was not enough home guard to repel the psychotic Neo-Crusaders or their Basilisk War Droids. Some landed outside of the city and opened fire on the walls themselves, reducing them to burning heaps of rubble and ash. People were screaming for the lives that would be cut down only minutes later. The Onderonian's were completely and utterly overwhelmed.

The Sky Ramp was the monument not only of Iziz, but of the Onderonian Royal Family itself. It's purpose was a defensive separation between the elevated palace and the city itself. It was lined with turrets, barricades thrown up every ten yards and held by the finest soldiers and palace guards available.

Up to that point, General Vaklu had managed to hold the ramp from the invaders, the Basilisk's too easy of targets for the Onderonian laser cannons; but things changed when the invasion fleet so vast entered the atmosphere, a great cloud that darkened the sky as if in a tall, terrible storm. He was beholden to the massive armada from a small balcony on the side of the large palace in disregard of his orderlies insisting he take shelter, and even the blind could see that there was no hope at stopping the massive Neo-Crusader wave of death.

"Major..." he said slowly, looking over his right shoulder; the intended Officer snapped to attention. "Cut the shit Major." he said bitterly. "Go and transmit a parlay signal to the Mando's and inform the Queen that we are surrendering. I'm not going to turn Onderon into a second Cathar."

"Yes, General sir."


	11. Chapter 4B

_One Week Later_

The three Jedi chose to not meet in the Jedi Temple.

Arren Kae was a Jedi Master, having attained the rank before the age of forty – a very impressive feat for a blind human. She had dedicated her life as a historian, delving deep into the very origins of the Jedi Order, from Tython forward. Every great schism was known, every movement of Exar Kun plotted in her mind. Her blindness was no weakness, rather, through the Force it was a strength.

To say that her methods of instructing the Padawan's she instructed were often unorthodox would be an understatement. She spoke in riddles and difficult questions that challenged her student's. Most who had seen her instruction were disapproving of it, including the Council itself; but you do not just simply _exile_ a Jedi Master.

Her former pupil would be arriving soon. Bringing herself to her knees and channeling the Force through her very core, letting every orifice become a receptacle of it's wave of energy, her surrounding's were revealed to her as plainly as one with sight may see. The carpeting was cerulean, though hardly iluminated by the dim, greyish lighting. She had requested nothing more from her friend, the proprietor of the hotel that had allowed the use of the back room, high in the lofty link of the vast skyscraper that was utilized by hundreds of occupants. There were no decorations or ornaments to liven the room up. It was a miserable little place for miserable business.

Soon enough, the sound of the door sliding open filled her ears; and she rose, turning to face the two who entered. One was tall and muscular, noticeable even through his robes; and his head was tattooed by two thick columns that ran from fore to rear of his cranium, ending at his eyebrows. She knew him as Alek, though her apprentice had taken to calling him Squint. The other was merely cloaked and hooded, something he had taken to in recent times; he had even come to embrace the name given to him by so many: _Revan_.

"Master Kae, so sorry to keep you waiting." he said.

"Oh, no problem at all. Please, I would care to hear of your escape from Flashpoint, Alek." "Master," responded the tall Jedi Knight, "Forgive me, but the ordeal was not one I care to relive; the whole incident during the trial and the actual death of Demagol was more than enough for me."

"As you please," she said softly, "Revan, are you aware of the predicament that you are in?" Revan gave a little chuckle, slowly pacing about the corners of the room. "Even you now call me that, Master? May as well – looks like it's the only name I'll ever be known by again. Master, the little announcement that the Council plans to release tomorrow is insignificant to the predicament that the Republic is in. I am insignificant."

"Hardly." she scoffed, turning to face him. "Do not underestimate yourself, my former apprentice; right now, dozens of Jedi are ready to follow you into battle, to ignite their lightsabers and join the war. If the Council will ever decide to officially enter the war, your group of public supporters will grow dramatically. You are a hero and yet you have not even cut down one Mandalorian – rather unlike your friend there." Alek shifted uncomfortably, but remained silent.

"Now now, Master, Squint gave you no reason to taunt him." said Revan, stopping his pacing to approach his Master. "Master Kae, you know as well as I do that participation is inevitable, even if it must take Mandalore himself marching into the Temple. What do you suggest I do now?" "Do what the Force instructs you to do, Revan." she responded. "And always remember that the Force is a guide, and when it's path is followed correctly the traveler will always reach the Light. Be wary of the false turns that will plague your way, Revan. Do not fall to the Dark Side – but master yourself enough so that you may walk the brink when you need to."

"I hope you're right," said Alek, "It's going to take more than a few Jedi to beat the Neo-Crusader's. We had a _few_ at Suurja, and see where that got us. We don't have any more than twenty that call themselves Revanchist's. I don't think we can help without the Order sanctioning our actions."

"And I hope you're wrong." responded Revan, turning now to his accomplice, "If the Jedi have their way, I'm going to be exiled or imprisoned – maybe both."


End file.
